Fading Memories
by Rae666
Summary: Memories of fire will remain scorched in three specific minds for all their lives even if they start to fade over time... 3 POVS with memories of the night of the fire. Entry for the Ungen Summer Fire Challenge.
1. The Spider

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Fading Memories

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Summary: Memories of fire will remain scorched in three specific minds for all their lives even if they start to fade over time... 3 POVS with memories of the night of the fire.

Disclaimer: The usual... I don't own the characters or anything associated with the show...

Warnings: Season 4 spoilers and bad language

A/N: *flails* I'm still in shock about this winning so a huge thank you. Also, I have to say a thank you to Gen ('cause I told her I'd blame her) for sparking the idea for POV numero uno. Povs are a spider (strange, huh?), John and Lucifer...

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POV1: The Spider

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Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider, who sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away.

I remember hearing that poem when I was naught but a spiderling and it always made me wonder if those words were the reason for all the screams and all the rolled up newspapers and all the Goddamn vacuum cleaners. I mean, come on! Humans are scared shitless whenever I scutter into the room. It's hilarious to watch. Completely idiotic, but hilarious. They're all so Goddamn scared.

Not her though. She doesn't even pay attention to me as I make my way across the ceiling to the web in the far corner. It's not that she doesn't know I'm there, because she does… her eyes had locked onto me several times throughout the night as she had sang to her miniature one. I'd seen her considering trapping me, her eyes narrowed as she no doubt considered what method would be best – but in the end, she left me be.

And right now, I was the least of her worries. Right now, her eyes were trained on the man with yellow eyes. And I had to admit, he was one scary son of a bitch. I wouldn't have put it past him to put me in his mouth and just chew, chew, chew… Damn humans, distracting me from my purpose. Oh well, at least they weren't trying to swat at me for once.

Ignoring their voices from below, I scuttered ever faster towards the web, disappointment filling me when I saw it was completely undisturbed. The flies just aren't flying tonight. They hadn't been flying last night either – so it was a good thing I'd had a big meal earlier in the week. Trying not to wallow on the emptiness, I turned myself back around just in time to hear her scream. It was like she could feel my inner turmoil… well, it was either that or something to do with the fact she had somehow ended up on the ceiling, inches away from me.

Talk about a near death experience! These humans really need to be more careful with where they're throwing themselves – damn reckless. She could have killed me! Feeling tiny sparks of anger flare up in me, I made a point to scurry across her golden locks as I headed back towards the window. That'd show her!

Or at least it would have if I hadn't lost my grip. I didn't even have time to spin out some thread as I came crashing towards her mini one, landing neatly on its blankets. My eyes lifted and I spotted the male from before, the sight of him causing me to quickly hide in the folds of the blanket, not wishing for him to blame me for his wife being up there on the ceiling. My thread was sticky but even I wasn't that good – there's no way I'd be able to make my work hold a human, not even one as fragile as her.

Ah, but I could breathe a sigh of relief. He hadn't spotted me. He had spotted her however, along with the flames that suddenly erupted from her abdomen.

Flames…? FIRE! FIRE! For God's sake! The house is on fire!!!

Panicking, I struggle to remain attached to the blanket as we suddenly start moving and I watch in horror as I'm being carried further and further away from my little home under the window sill… away from my beloved Henrietta.

"HENRIETTA!" I scream her name but I know no one hears me, the humans never understand and the rush of the flames is too loud for Hennie to hear my plea. But then, as I feel myself sinking into a hopeless despair, I already know it's too late.

My home, my life, my love… all gone. Too quick. Too soon. I couldn't even do anything to stop it. And now my only hope for revenge against whatever had caused it is the man who's shoulder I currently sit on, his arms wrapped tight around the mini ones that the woman with no fear had given him.

I pray to the great mystic spider God that somehow he will do what I cannot – that he will avenge the death of my beloved Henrietta.

Vengeance _shall _be mine!!!

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Thank you for reading!


	2. John

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Fading Memories

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Summary: Memories of fire will remain scorched in three specific minds for all their lives even if they start to fade over time... 3 POVS with memories of the night of the fire.

Disclaimer: The usual... I don't own the characters or anything associated with the show...

Warnings: Season 4 spoilers and bad language

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POV2 : Johnny Boy

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He couldn't remember a time before Mary, but even worse than that – he couldn't imagine a life without her. Everywhere he looked, he could see her. The blond who turned away from him on the street, the scent of her perfume passing through the air, the sound of her laughter and her eyes… looking up at him, lost and confused, the eyes that she had passed down to their eldest.

Everything had fallen apart the night of the fire. Everything had just shattered… And each day, the only things keeping John moving, the only things keeping him breathing were his sons. Because each day, it just got harder and harder to even wake up on a morning. Anger mixed with grief, frustration mixed with hopelessness… a chaotic turbulence of emotions circling inside of him, causing his insides to squirm if he ever stopped to think about it too long. And that was why he had the whiskey… it numbed the pain, if only for a little while.

But every time the glass grew empty, the memories flooded back, bombarding him, tormenting him. He couldn't save her. Why couldn't he save her? If he'd just done things differently… Maybe it could have been him instead of her. It _should_ have been him. She didn't deserve this, no, not Mary. She was the one with all the faith, the one with the angels. And where were they? Why didn't they save her? Why didn't they take him instead?

Clutching at his glass, John stared blankly into the amber liquid as it swirled from the movement, reflecting his reddened eyes and the tears that somehow slipped through unnoticed. This would be his last drink for the night. He needed to be at least halfway sober when he woke up tomorrow, needed a clear head for the journey that was ahead because come tomorrow morning, come the dawn, he was taking his sons and getting the hell out of Lawrence. He couldn't stay there anymore, not with the memories too fresh… not with the way everyone looked at him, pitying him, offering him their sympathies when they should have been angry – when they should have been telling him that he was right, that it should have been him and not Mary.

But that goddamn fire took Mary. It took her into its grasp and pinned her to that ceiling, lashing out when John had tried to claim her back. It was unnatural. It was crazy. And it only served to make John's chest ache even more to know that some_thing_ had taken his Mary, stolen her and killed her… and that there hadn't been a damn thing he could so about it.

His hands left his glass, moving up to hold his head instead as his elbows rested at the edge of the table. He could feel the tears flowing freely even as he tried to force them back, taking in deep breaths in a vain attempt to stop himself from sobbing. And he just couldn't get a grip, couldn't control himself as the fury and the rage battled with the sorrow and misery that threatened to just consume him, each wanting his undivided attention. His chest hurt so badly, his body worn and exhausted from the crying and the trying… so tired of living. Tired of living without her.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could still feel the heat, still see the flames as they scorched their way across the ceiling… and she was always there, staring down at him… terror written in her eyes. "Oh God, Mary." He choked the words out, nearly losing them somewhere in his throat as another sob threatened to escape with them. Brushing his hands over his face and swiping angrily at the tears that clung to his skin, he let his fingers find his hair and stay there as he looked up at the ceiling, bitter venom coating his tongue as he asked why, why Mary and not him… why take her away from the family that needed her so much.

But the sound of an almost silent shuffle brought his gaze back down, his eyes instead landing on the four year old in the doorway… small hand clinging to the frame before resolution settled in those deep soulful eyes and his son moved forward. Tiny arms wrapped around John and tiny fingers stroked his arm and it was all John could do to hold himself together.

Silently, his son was consoling him and John fought back the tears as he buried his head into his eldest's shoulder… knowing deep down inside that it should have been the other way around, knowing that he was supposed to be the strong one… the one that was supposed to support his family and help them move on. But at that moment, he felt so damn useless… so damn miserable… And as his son whispered those small words, telling him that it was okay, that it would all be okay, he allowed himself to believe it if only for just that short while.

And he never once thought about just how much that fire would taint their lives… never once thought how much it would tear them apart. Because the truth was, it was easier not to think about it…

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Thank you for reading!


	3. Lucifer

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Fading Memories

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Summary: Memories of fire will remain scorched in three specific minds for all their lives even if they start to fade over time... 3 POVS with memories of the night of the fire.

Disclaimer: The usual... I don't own the characters or anything associated with the show...

Warnings: Season 4 spoilers and bad language

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POV3: Lucifer

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Fire is a beautiful and wondrous thing. It truly is something to behold. It thrives and feeds on oxygen, just like the humans, and kills and destroys as it does so – just like the humans. Only unlike the humans, fire is much more unpredictable, unless you know what you're looking for. And if that fire is controlled by a demon, well then you've got no chance 'cause no one but the demon himself knows what that fire is gonna do – well, except me that is. Well anyway, _his_ fire was particularly magnificent.

Whilst I couldn't see it, I could still feel it right through my entire essence… white hot fire, scorching… flames licking at the night sky, torturing the absent Lord, mocking him as neighbours and friends and family all asked 'why'. Me, personally I just delighted in her prayers as she begged not for her own life, but for her children's and husband's - never truly understanding just how safe they were.

They still had their roles to play, still had their dominoes to push and this, her death, would be not only their catalyst but also the reason why it had to be them and no one else. Why it had to be John to break his eldest so badly that he couldn't live without his little brother, and why it had to be Dean to break the first seal of the lock to my cage door, whilst by a sick twist of fate it would be Sam who broke the last. So yes, all four Winchesters had their parts to play in a little production I liked to call 'getting me the Goddamn son of a bitching hell out of this freaking bastard prison cell'. And let's just say this fire was Mary's curtain call.

I kinda liked the idea of this fire in particular being the opening act, my own little back story being the prologue preceding it. Cast out of Heaven for my blasphemous words when in truth I am really just an angelic equivalent to the human's Leonardo Da Vinci – thinking outside the box, my ideas well before their time. In other words, everyone else was just too chickenshit to admit that I was right. I mean, in all honesty, I don't mind the humans. They're great little toys – but that's all they are, moving chess board pieces, manipulated by the greater beings that surround them, and so willingly they bend.

But I digress, I was talking about fire and how beautiful it is when plans start coming together. And well, as long as that son of a bitch absent father of mind doesn't decide to make a sudden miraculous appearance, I'll soon be free… And to think it all started with one measly house fire. Oh the chain reaction it would have… I could see it all happening now – I could see the Winchesters in all their glory, as they ran around trying to do good, trying to kill the bad things… never once understanding that it would be because of them that the baddest of the bad would be let loose.

It was poetic and it was magnificent. And I loved every last thing about that fire… It truly is a wondrous thing. It was the key event that would not only seal the fate of the Winchesters… but also the fate of the world.

Yes, I really do love fire.

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Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading!!!!


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